The woman who was to have the charge of Danny lived in a little house to which you climbed by a wooden outside stair. She was a most cheerful person, whom Herries addressed as ’Isabella,’ and who, in her turn, patted him on the shoulders, and called him ’Master Archie.’ She bustled them all into the warm, clean, homely cottage, and showed off with pride her preparations for Danny’s sojourn—his little bed covered with a patch-work quilt, his chair with a cushion on it, the very kitten to play with ’when he wearied.’ She lugged out of some recess a curious old battered tin vessel, bearing some faint resemblance to the modern hip bath. ’Ye see,’ she said, ’I’m well acquaint wi’ they delicut bairns. It’s a while sin’ syne, but I had ane wi’ me—the brawest bairn ever ye saw—but he had the one leg shorter than the t’ither, and ay the somethin’ wrong wi’ the one foot; an’ it was the sea watter for him too. Here’s his bit bath—I hae ay keepit it. One Walter Scott they ca’d him,’ she added, ’a writer’s son; a gran’ strappin’ callant now, though he hirples yet; but he’s mindfu’ o’ an auld body, and comes to see me whiles.’ And her listeners of that benighted generation heard that wonder-working name, and knew it not for a magician’s! Then it was arranged that Alison and her escort should take Willy to the sands while the day was at its best, and when they came back Isabella would give them a ’sup o’ broth and a tattie,’ she said, ’to warm them up before the long drive home.’ *CHAPTER XXV.* It was one of those days when the land lies under the spell of a long and sunny frost; the ground rang iron to the foot, but the sea smiled and sparkled to the sun, and the Lomonds of Fife, beyond the Firth, were clear against the winter sky. Herries and his companions walked briskly down the village and along the links. Away to their right stretched the fields, where, not a generation since, the blood of a great battle had been spilt, but where now the peaceful stubble grew over the scattered implements of war and over the bones of men,—and quiet cottages smoked to tranquil skies. ’Shouldn’t you like to be a soldier, Willy?’ Alison asked the little boy, who pranced beside her, tugging at her arm. ’Yes,’ said Willy, ’I’d like to be a soldier. But I shouldn’t like to be shot,’ he added, cautiously. ’’Tis a fancy of all boys,’ said Herries. ’They don’t all qualify it, like Willy here. It was more than a fancy with me, God knows!’ ’With you, sir?’ asked Alison, in surprise. ’I dreamed of soldiering,’ said Herries, bitterly, ’till I waked to find myself tied to a desk.’ ’Was—was it a great disappointment, sir?’ asked Alison, timidly.